


more than a memory

by sophrosyns



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: First Dates, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius, but transphobia doesnt exist, literally just a mid-2000s romcom, mentioned dimiclaude, mentioned hildamari, so of course it had to be a named after a crj song, sylvain is very dumb and in love, they work at a gym, with some weird local vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:06:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23604268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophrosyns/pseuds/sophrosyns
Summary: Sylvain is positive that if Felix would just give him a chance, they'd be fantastic together.What will happen when one time in a hundred, Felix says yes to taking that chance?
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 113





	more than a memory

“I’m gonna go talk to him.” 

“You’re gonna get  _ slapped  _ one of these times.”

“Are you gonna do it?” 

Ingrid rolls her eyes. “No.” 

“Then I’m going for it.” Sylvain laughs, shooting her a careless wink over his shoulder. 

Across the gym stands a lean figure, whose light stance and straight-backed posture give the impression that he’s ready to run on a moment’s notice. 

He turns as Sylvain approaches, tipped off by the sound of heavy footsteps. He’s already scowling, a stormy expression which only darkens with every step Sylvain takes. 

“Hey, Felix!” Sylvain says, as cheerily as possible. He smiles broadly, leaning up against the equipment Felix had been using up until a moment ago. Sweat drips from his brow, his lips are slightly parted as he catches his breath. In retrospect, it might’ve been a good idea to wait until he’d recovered from his set. Ah, it’s too late now. 

And there’s definitely no downside to the view he’s treated too as Felix pulls his shirt up to wipe at his brow. 

“What do you want?” He asks, maintaining a perfect, steely deadpan. 

“I just wanna talk, man. It’s my job.” Sylvain says, tapping at the nametag pinned to his shirt.

Felix cocks a brow. 

“But I mean, if you’re wrapping up now maybe we could-” 

“No.”

Sylvain pouts. “You didn’t let me finish.” 

“No, I won’t go out with you.”

Felix begins to walk away, and Sylvain stammers for a second before stumbling along to catch up. “Okay, so you’re too smart for me, Felix.” He laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. Felix shakes him off, rounding the corner into the changerooms. 

At this point Sylvain is used to being ignored, so he’s not upset by the lack of response. They split up to change at their separate lockers, and meet again at the entrance where Sylvain’s stopped to chat with Hilda at the front desk. Felix breezes right past them without a word, prompting Hilda to sigh her most dramatic sigh. 

“Why don’t you just give up already?” 

Sylvain shrugs. He wouldn’t be able to explain it in words, but he gets the sense that Felix isn’t actually all that mad about the repeated requests. 

“Y’wanna make a bet?” He hums, thoughtfully. 

Hilda’s eyes light up. “What are you proposing, Monsieur Gautier?” 

“If he agrees to a date within the next week, you’ll take any five shifts I want.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Hilds asks, nose wrinkling with distaste at the idea of taking on more work.

“I’ll take five of yours.” 

She thinks on that for a moment. “ _ Any  _ shifts? Including weekends?” 

“Including weekends.” 

“Deal.” She grins, leaning across the counter to shake his hand. 

Sylvain shakes, already trying to come to terms with the likely possibility that he was going to be working Saturday nights for the foreseeable future. 

\---

The next time Sylvain asks, Felix says no. And the time after that, and the time after that. 

“He’s way too cool for you,” Ashe says on Wednesday, swiftly ducking out of the way as Sylvain tries to wrangle him into a headlock. “Come on- look at him!” 

Sylvain looks. 

Felix is breaking between sets, scraping his hair back into the usual, tight ponytail. 

“It’s an arms day,” Sylvain remarks dreamily as the object of his affection starts up another set of bicep curls. 

“Rumour is he’s a champion or somethin’,” Ashe chatters. “Fencing.”

“I believe it,” Sylvain nods. It wouldn’t be at all surprising to find out Felix holds a title or two. He’s easily one of the fittest members at their gym. The only one who’s ever beat his pull-up record is Dimitri, and that’s hardly a fair comparison. Blondie’s got a lot of issues to work through and it’s clear to see he takes out a lot of that energy on their equipment. Either that, or he’s got a long-standing grudge against punching bags. “And hey - Ingrid’s a champion boxer and she dated me.” 

“For  _ a week  _ when you were 15, dude. Get over it.”

“Still counts,” Sylvain shrugs, returning to watching Felix work up a sweat. Suddenly, his head lifts and his gaze shifts to look directly at Sylvain.

“Is he looking at me?” Sylvain mutters out of the corner of his mouth.

“I think he is,” Ashe whispers back, staring at Felix in disbelief. 

“Is he coming over here?” Sylvain asks, as Felix sets aside his barbells and takes out his wireless headphones. 

“I think he might be.” 

“What do I say?” 

Felix is moving in their direction now, and Ashe takes that as his cue to disappear. He grasps Sylvain’s shoulder and gives him a look to say good luck, then rushes off to look busy. 

By the time Sylvain looks away from his retreating “friend”, Felix is close enough that he really should’ve said something by now. But he doesn’t say a word, just comes right up to him in that easy, intimidating way of his. 

Sylvain swallows, back against the wall - figuratively and literally. Felix has him cornered here, standing almost uncomfortably close.

“Sylvain.” He states plainly, as if observing an imperfection on a freshly painted wall.

“Uh, hey Felix.” Sylvain smiles, focusing on keeping his tone light and cheery (and failing spectacularly at doing so). 

Felix raises a brow, as if he’d been expecting a different response. 

“Aren’t you going to ask?” he says, folding his arms across his chest. 

Sylvain’s head tips to the side in confusion. “Ask what?” 

“If I’ll go on a date with you.” 

Sylvain’s blood runs cold. “Someone told you about the bet.” 

“The excitable one with blue hair.” 

“Caspar.” Sylvain groans, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Listen - it was just a joke between friends. No harm done, right?”

Felix pauses, hands shifting to his hips. “So are you turning me down?” 

Sylvain blinks stupidly, arms hanging uselessly at his sides. “Are you asking  _ me  _ out?” 

Felix nods, expression unchanged. 

“Oh!” Sylvain’s head bobs in an answering nod. “Uh… okay! Great! When are you free?” 

“I’m only doing this because Hilda is certified to supervise the climbing wall and you’re not.” 

Sylvain’s ego deflates a little, but not much. “I’ll take it!” he grins brightly, pulling out his phone. “Give me your number; I’ll call you after work.” 

Felix takes his cell from him, taps in his number, and returns it. And then, just as easily as before, he walks away.

Sylvain takes a moment to bask in the warmth of complete satisfaction with himself, then looks across the gym to find Hilda, Caspar, and Ingrid all standing behind the counter, mouths agape, looking absolutely dumbfounded. Sylvain waves his phone at them, and thrusts his hips in lewd celebration.

After spending the rest of his shift explaining to two middle-aged customers that he really hadn’t meant to thrust in their direction, Sylvain sits on the hood of his car and dials Felix’s number. 

It rings so many times that Sylvain is sure he’ll get sent to voicemail, but eventually Felix picks up. 

“Yeah?” 

“Hey, Felix! It’s Sylvain.” 

“Okay.” 

“From the gym?” 

“I know.”

“I was just wondering when you’re free for that date?” 

“Eight o’clock, Friday night. If you’re more than 10 minutes late, I’m staying home. And no bars; I don’t drink.” 

Sylvain pumps a fist in the air. This is even better than the time he passed chemistry with a C in his first year of college. “Sweet, got it! Don’t worry about dressing up or anything, we can just hang out.” 

“Cool.” Sylvain could swear there’s some excitement to be found in the sound of Felix’s tinny voice. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking, but it doesn’t stop him from walking the rest of the week walking on air. When Friday finally rolls around, he puts on some respectably tight jeans and a near-plunging v-neck, and heads and heads out to pick Felix up from his apartment.

Felix is standing outside, checking his watch as Sylvain pulls to a stop beside him. “I’m surprised,” he says as he settles into the passenger side seat. “You’re never on time for work.” 

“Well, this ain’t exactly work,” Sylvain winks, turning down the radio so they can talk. 

Felix hums. “Not exactly.” 

Sylvain chooses to believe that that doesn’t actually mean:  _ But it’s pretty close to it.  _ He shifts the car back into drive and takes off down the road, making sure to rev the engine as he does. His car isn’t actually all that nice or new - thanks, Miklan, by the way, for taking a  _ second  _ new car from their Dad instead of letting him buy Sylvain one - but he takes good care of her and she gets him where he needs to be. They make good time on the freeway, and soon enough they’re standing out in front of a late-night video game arcade. 

“Are you joking?” Felix asks. 

“You said no bars and you love to fight. Figured this place would be perfect for you, since the fights don’t have real consequences.”

Felix looks at him like he’s trying to decide whether or not he’s crossed the line. Apparently Sylvain’s remained in the realm of acceptable teasing, because Felix sweeps by him through the glass door plastered with posters for D&D groups seeking players and others advertising glow-stick raves.

“I haven’t played these things since I was a snot nose.” Felix says, with a slightly wondrous quality. Sylvain is excited to see which he’ll choose and happily follows him over to Pac-Man. 

“I played this one when I was a kid,” Sylvain nods, “There was this kid I could never beat, though. They were so damn quick.”

“Good for him,” Felix mutters, lightly resting his fingers on the controls. He’s inserted his coin, so the cabinet only takes a moment to set up his game. He’s shockingly good, his fencer’s reflexes coming in quite handy. He ends up showing Sylvain up at every game they try over the next two hours, including  _ skeeball _ , which is Sylvain’s  _ specialty,  _ so there’s nothing left to do but sulk over the difference in how many tickets they each won. 

“You’re a big baby.” Felix snorts, pushing his ticket reel into Sylvain’s hand. “I don’t need a lava lamp. Get whatever you want.” 

Sylvain gleefully informs the rat-mustached teenager behind the counter that he  _ will  _ be taking home the big stuffed monkey, thank you very much!

“I’m gonna call him Felix,” He grins as they walk back out to the car. 

Felix snorts out a laugh. “What about that thing reminds you of me?” 

“He’s got dark fur, I guess. And he’s pretty cute. I wouldn’t mind taking him to bed tonight,” He winks, half-expecting Felix to turn on his heel and head for the bus stop. 

Surprising both of them, perhaps, Felix doesn’t do that. 

Instead, he opens the door to Sylvain’s car and leans both hands on the roof for a moment. 

“Alright. I don’t have any roommates, so my place works.” 

“Okay.” Sylvain says, reaching for the car door handle and missing. Is he misinterpreting that statement? The second attempt for the handle is more successful and Sylvain has the car started in what's probably record time. “Okay, let’s go.” 

\---

Felix’s apartment is unsurprisingly… featureless. There are no pictures up anywhere, and everything is either black or a shade of grey. The fridge is magnetless and it’s probably filled with brown bread, broccoli, and chicken destined to be cooked dry as the desert. It’s not exactly spotless, but it’s far from filthy either. Felix tosses his jacket carelessly over the back of the couch and gestures for Sylvain to sit. Sylvain obediently toes out of his shoes and settles onto the couch. He’s not actually expecting anything to happen tonight. He’d definitely be alright with it if it did; after all, he hasn’t had sex since he realized he was seriously interested in Felix a few weeks ago. 

He does doubt, somewhat, that Felix would invite him in just to be polite. Felix doesn’t value politeness nearly that much. 

Sylvain is looking around for the cat that’s scratched up the couch when Felix comes back from the kitchen with two glasses of water. 

“All outta tea, Felix?”

It’s a joke, so he kinda expects Felix to glare and ignore him, but he’s surprised when Felix. Shit, is Felix blushing?

“I couldn’t remember what kind you like,” he grumbles, standing slightly awkwardly with a glass in either hand. 

“How d’you know wha-” 

“Because sometimes Hilda gets me to pick up your Starbucks on the way to the gym!” Felix snaps, setting the waters down a touch too hard. Sylvain surreptitiously wipes up the spill and Felix stalks back into the kitchen to slam the kettle onto his stove. “What kind.” 

“Decaf earl grey, please.” Sylvain calls over brightly, grinning because Felix  _ normally  _ knows his Starbucks order. Skinny vanilla London fog with almond milk? Yes, please. 

Felix gets them their tea, adding a splash of cream in Sylvain’s in place of the almond milk, and sits down with his own. 

“‘Christmas mint?’,” Sylvain reads off the tea tag. “Dude, how old is that? It’s August.” 

“It’s my favourite, alright?” Felix huffs, “Everyone gets it for me around the holidays so I usually have enough to last all year.” 

Sylvain nods. Felix must be notoriously hard to buy presents for. Sylvain would hate to get him in a Secret Santa. Wouldn’t say the same about getting him in a sexy Santa suit, though… 

Okay, his mind is wandering. He refocuses his attention on the actual Felix sitting in front of him, rather than the admittedly unrealistic Felix that lives in his fantasies. 

The Felix sitting in front of him has premature wrinkles on his forehead and slightly sunken eyes. He’s got a little scar above his lip. He doesn’t talk much and when he does it’s usually in short and acerbic phrases. He’s quick to anger, knows how to make the words hurt, and is generally unpleasant to be around a lot of the time. 

He’s so, so much better than anything Sylvain could possibly dream up.

Sylvain’s affection must show on his face, because Felix squints at him and shifts away. But then, as if second guessing himself, he moves back to where he’d been. 

Sylvain’s hopes cautiously take flight. 

As Felix stands again, abandoning his tea to a coaster, and stands in front of Sylvain. He reaches down and grabs his hands, moving them to his hips.

“Felix… what are you doing?” Sylvain’s tongue suddenly feels too heavy in his mouth, his breath too hot on his lips. He looks up at Felix through heavy-lidded eyes, but doesn’t take his hands off his hips. He wants this so, so bad. He’s wanted it for what seems like ages now, though that’s probably due in part to his partial celibacy vow. 

Felix nudges his knees apart a little, putting a hand on the back of the couch and leaning over Sylvain, whose clever fingers are already creeping beneath Felix’s loose black t-shirt. 

“D’you wanna… ?” Sylvain breathes, needing to make sure that Felix is into it.

Felix huffs, grabbing Sylvain’s hand and pulling him into the room on their left, which Sylvain delightedly realises is the bedroom. Felix leads him over to the bed, and presses on his shoulder until he sits. Again, Sylvain holds him by the hips and asks: “Felix, what do you want?” 

Felix huffs again, and almost angrily pushes Sylvain onto his back. Sylvain’s hands come up (just in case, y’know) but Felix only grabs them and lunges forward to his own hands and knees. He holds Sylvain’s wrists above his head and  _ stares  _ down at him. 

Another moment that lasts forever. 

“Felix,” He repeats, the words coming out deeper - and rougher - this time. 

Felix’s stare breaks, gaze flicking away for a bare second before he nods, and lowers his body down on top of Sylvain’s. “Yeah. I want to.”

“Good,” Sylvain grins, and lifts his head up to catch Felix’s lips in a kiss. Felix doesn’t move at first but lets Sylvain’s wrists go, nudging them back towards his waist. He presses into the kiss, hips slotting against Sylvain’s thigh. His body is taut, arms still braced on either side of Sylvain’s head. His kisses are cautious, every movement calculated. Sylvain can’t get his hands on him fast enough, eagerly untucking his shirt and letting his hands wander over his abdomen up to his chest. Felix seems to like that, or at least it makes him lose some composure. He groans, dragging his whole body into the kiss. Sylvain effortlessly matches him, kissing faster and harder every time Felix steps up the intensity. 

It’s when Felix bites his lip that Sylvain completely cracks, hips jerking up as he gasps for a breath. Felix smirks and tugs the lip back. 

Sylvain catches his breath, and runs his tongue over the place where Felix bit down. “Take it off,” he murmurs, fingers catching the edge of Felix’s shirt. It’s not phrased as a question but he knows Felix isn’t about to listen if he doesn’t want to. 

It’s alright, apparently, because Felix strips off his shirt and tosses it aside. Sylvain smiles and laces his fingers at the nape of Felix’s neck. He pushes a hand into his hair, searching for his hair tie until he can pull it free. Dark hair falls into Felix’s eyes. Sylvain sees his face twitch, and then he reaches for Sylvain’s belt. 

Okay, they were  _ really  _ moving fast. 

Sylvain sits up, which shifts Felix back in his lap. 

“This is okay?” He asks again, gently brushing Felix’s hair back to search his expression.

Felix’s frown deepens. “You’re the one who keeps asking.” 

“I just wanna make sure you want it too.” Sylvain tells him, shoulders slouching. “I really care about you, baby.” 

“Don’t call me that,” Felix grumbles, tilting his head away from Sylvain’s hand. He deftly unbuckles his belt, unzips his fly, and shoves his hand into his pants. Eyelashes fluttering with his pleasure at the new pressure, Sylvain nods his understanding. Less talking. 

Felix slowly palms his cock, but the angle quickly puts too much strain on his wrist. Noticing that, Sylvain rolls them over so Felix is on his back. He rises onto his knees for a moment, inelegantly fumbling to get out of his pants. It brings an all too rare upturn to Felix’s lips, so Sylvain hardly minds making a fool of himself. He grins broadly, smoothing his broad palms over Felix’s chest, gently massaging the dark, jagged scars beneath his pectorals. 

Felix responds by lifting his hips, pushing his jeans down around his thighs. His briefs come along with them a bit and Sylvain relishes the sight of close-cropped, dark hair trailing down to his groin. 

“You’re gorgeous,” He whispers. Felix gives him a warning glance, but doesn’t tell him to shut up. He breathes out, a long exhale, back arching and adjusting so he’s more comfortable. Sylvain drops his hips, grinding slow against Felix’s. It’s almost unfair, how sexy Felix is looking up at him, bare-chested and wanting. He’s breaking their no-talking rule, but he just can’t help himself. “So - damn - sexy.” He murmurs in between kisses. 

Felix sighs, lifting his hips up so Sylvain’s cock rubs against him, which has him grasping at Sylvain’s hips, coaxing them forward. Sylvain is all too happy to oblige, grinding against Felix’s swollen clit. 

“Come on…” Felix mutters roughly, fingers digging into Sylvain’s flesh. 

“Oh,” Sylvain purrs, thrusting against Felix again. “You want me to fuck you, Felix?” 

Felix doesn’t answer him for a little too long, so Sylvain changes tactics and stops moving altogether. Felix whines, pushing his hips up in response.

“Use your words,” Sylvain chides, gently.

Felix glares at him through his lashes. “Fuck me.” 

Sylvain’s cock jerks, and he happily shifts down a bit. Felix grabs his hair and forces Sylvain to look at him. “There’s condoms in the nightstand.” Sylvian nods, and gets off the bed briefly to give Felix room to take off his pants and to search Felix’s bedside drawer for protection. He finds a condom that’ll work and rolls it down over his cock, before turning back to Felix and bending down to give him a sweet kiss. “Where do you want it?” he whispers, stroking his cock loosely. 

Felix hums softly, and reaches out. He guides Sylvain down onto his back, and straddles his hips. Lowering himself down to press Sylvain’s cock between his groin and Sylvain’s stomach, he hooks his feet around Sylvain’s legs and begins to shift his hips back and forth, back and forth. “Lube’s under the pillow.” He groans, fortunately closing his eyes so he misses the look Sylvain gives him.  _ Condoms in the drawer but lube beneath the pillow?  _ Is it that he really doesn’t trust Sylvain to use protection? Or maybe, as Sylvain opts to believe:  _ He must be really pent up.  _

Felix must  _ sense  _ the snide energy in the air, because his brow twitches and the next moment he’s grasping Sylvain’s cock and sinking down onto it. Sylvain knocks it off pretty quickly after that. He’s so eager to thrust deeper, but he let’s Felix take the lead and ease down slowly. He bites his lip, the thumb of one hand massaging Felix’s hip, the other reaching back to grab the headboard. 

“You like that?” He asks, and Felix drops his hips down sharply. Sylvain groans and nods again. Less sass.

Felix really starts to ride him then, thighs tight with the effort of fucking himself on Sylvain’s cock. He leans back onto his hands after a couple minutes, and takes a pause to just rock his hips, his breath coming out in long, hot gasps. 

“Tired already?” Sylvain hums, already forgetting what Felix had just communicated to him. But this time, Felix seems to mind a whole lot less. 

Instead he leans down until his lips gently brush past Sylvain’s cheek to whisper in his ear. “Now it’s your turn to do some of the work.” 

Felix pulls at his right shoulder, until Sylvain takes the hint and rolls them over. His cock slides out and he takes the opportunity to warm up some lube as Felix settles beneath him. He runs his hand over his cock a few times and slowly presses it back into Felix. He starts nice and slow, matching the rhythm Felix had going before. When Felix’s hands squeeze his ass tighter, he picks up the pace. 

Now, Sylvain’s usually the polar opposite of pent up, but it isn’t all that long before he feels like he’s coming close to the edge. His thrusts become irregular, so he pulls out and uses one hand to jerk himself off. “Can I come on your chest?” He asks, voice a little wobbly. 

Felix nods, crossing his arms beneath his head. “Mhmm.” 

Sylvain strips off the condom, tossing it aside. The hand fisted around his cock starts to move more quickly, until his body starts to feel electric, and he moans: “Yeah Fe… yeah, Felix.” When he comes, he comes watching Felix’s face, somehow managing to get a little bit on his cheek. He takes a nearly shameful amount of time to come back to himself, at which point he smiles loosely and swipes his thumb over Felix’s cheek. He doesn’t wanna put it on Felix’s sheets, so he wipes his thumb over his own chest instead (though they definitely need a wash, anyway).

Felix seems to have no such qualms about it, dragging his sheets up to clean his chest and stomach. Sylvain lays his cheek against Felix’s, happy as can be. “Can I go down on you?” He sighs. 

Felix laughs softly, rubbing at his eye. “Please.” 

Sylvain moves to situate himself between Felix’s thighs, peppering them with kisses. He happily keeps at it until Felix is trembling, then finally gives in and puts his (in)famous tongue to work. Felix angles his hips so perfectly, letting Sylvain suck him off until he’s grasping at the sheets, thighs squeezing Sylvain’s cheeks. It’s still a pretty subdued reaction, so Sylvain keeps going until Felix slides a hand into his hair. He props himself up on an elbow, swiping the back of his arm over his mouth. “That was amazing…” he says, rolling over onto his back, arms reaching up over his head. He feels Felix’s fingers dance across his palm. Playfully, he catches them, turning again and coming up the bed to kiss Felix’s knuckles. They lay like that for a long time, before Sylvain feels like he has to ask. “D’you want me to stay?” 

That’s really the question now. Was Felix going to come to his senses after that and ask him to leave? Sylvain is starting to get a little nervous before Felix nods. “That’s fine. But I have practice early tomorrow, so we have to go to sleep.” 

“Aww, no round two?” Sylvain grins. 

“Pervert.” Felix shoves a pillow in his face, and gets up to go to the bathroom. 

While he’s gone Sylvain strips the bed for them, and the two of them spread clean sheets over the mattress. They settle in for the night with little more conversation, each of them tired and satisfied. Felix lays close to Sylvain’s side, their bodies touching at few, lovely places. Felix’s head on Sylvain’s chest, their fingers laced together. 

“Good night, Sylvain.” Felix yawns. 

“G’night, Felix.” 

\---

He knows Felix is at practice, but it’s still a bummer to wake up alone. Sylvain stretches and yawns, noting an unusual bump under the covers. He reaches out to gently nudge at it and is greeted by an inquisitive “Prrp?” 

“Aww, good morning, kitty.” Sylvain laughs, spending some time scratching her between the ears before getting up and searching for his clothes. 

Felix has left him a note in the kitchen, reading:  _ Her name is Peanut Butter. Lock the door and leave the spare key under the mat.  _

Sylvain zips up his pants and grabs the key. It takes him a while to actually get out of there, as Peanut Butter - the evil mastermind - manages to dart out the door between his feet and take off down the hall. He spends just over half an hour chasing her before he finally corners her in the elevator and hustles her back to Felix’s apartment. Apparently content with her mischief making, she’s content to flop onto Felix’s bed and purr. Sylvain, exhausted, goes home to sleep some more.

It isn’t until the next morning that he realises he’s kept Felix’s spare key. In all the confusion with the cat, he must have just tucked it into his jeans and forgotten about it. It should be no big deal, but when he goes to return it at the gym, he can’t seem to catch Felix long enough to give it back to him. The one time he actually gets close enough to say a few words, Felix said he was late to work and left without even going to the changeroom for his things. 

“I don’t know what the problem is!” He complains to a very disinterested Hilda as she flips through a copy of Italian Vogue. 

“He’s just not that into you,” she says, taking a moment to congratulate herself for that excellent reference, and closes her magazine with a sigh. “There are plenty of other, more, umm…  _ sensitive  _ guys out there!” 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He replies weakly, to which she can only shrug. 

He forgives her. He’s not sure why he ever asks her for relationship advice anyway. She’s been with Marianne for years now and only ever flirts to get something she wants. 

“Maybe he’s pissed.”

Sylvain damn near jumps out of his skin. “How long have you been listening, Claude?” 

“Not long,” Claude hums, tugging Hilda’s magazine towards him. She waves a manicured hand, telling him to take it. She’s preoccupied with updating her Instagram, anyway. “Long enough to know you and him are having issues with  _ romance. _ ” He delivers that last word with an Italian-type flourish, accompanied by a mamma-mia hand gesture. 

Sylvain scrunches up his face. “It was one date.” 

“Seems like you want it to be more than that.” 

“Shut up, Riegan.” Sylvain scoffs, trying to play it cool. He’s got a reputation to uphold, and all. 

“What a way to treat a guy who's about to invite you to a party.” 

“What party?” Sylvain and Hilda say in perfect unison. 

“I’m planning one for this Friday,” Claude replies, casually flipping through a few pages of women in trendy blazers with extra thin lapels and flashy pumps. “I already know Felix is going to be there.” 

“Did you ask him?” 

“Before you ran him off the property today, yeah.” 

“I just wanted to talk to him!” Sylvain protests, and Claude raises a hand. 

“Just don’t be weird at my place, man.” 

“I’m not weird!” Sylvain insists, but Claude is already walking away. “He’s the weird one!” 

“You’re acting pretty weird right now,” Hilda cuts in. 

“How do you do that?” Sylvain whispers, astonished by her ability to multitask, waving a hand in front of her phone. She doesn’t even flinch as she types out her next viral caption.

“Sylvain,” Hilda sighs, hitting send and sweeping her hair back over her shoulder. “Some of us are functional human beings.”

\---

It’s strange. Sylvain normally doesn’t get nervous like this. But for some reason as he stands in Claude and Dimitri’s crowded sitting room, beer in hand, he can’t keep his mind from racing. Claude’s boyfriend, Dimitri, is standing beside him, listening politely as Ferdinand regales them with some story about the last eventing tournament he attended with his prize mare. Dimitri is one of Sylvain’s best friends from when he was a little scraped-knee brat running around the woods in their backyards. He’s a nice guy and Sylvain is constantly confused about how he ended up with someone as devious as Claude. 

“I’m gonna go get some air,” Sylvain says, and heads for the back porch. Dimitri will have to forgive him for dipping out on this story. Ferdinand probably doesn’t even care if anyone’s listening, happily chattering on as he sips a rosemary lemon spritzer. Did he bring that fucking rosemary himself? 

Sylvain heaves a deep breath as he steps outside. He’s greeted by the outline of a figure standing, smoking on the edge of the grass, illuminated by a lone porch light. 

“Ah, shit. Sorry, didn’t think anyone was out here.”

“It’s fine.” 

Sylvain immediately tenses up. “Hi, Felix.” 

Felix taps some ash into a beer can on the edge of the porch.

“I thought you didn’t drink?” 

“I don’t.” 

“Or smoke.” 

“Only socially.”

Sylvain takes this (limited) conversation as permission to move closer. He sits besides Felix’s ash-can. The height of the porch and the fact that Sylvain is a good deal taller means that they’re at eye level with one another this way. 

Inside, a sleepy-eyed, green-haired man watches from the kitchen window. “You know that’s Felix Fraldarius, right?” He yawns, looking over to his boyfriend who’s absolutely captivated by a game of beer pong they’ve got going. Caspar’s still listening though, and his eyes pop wide open when he hears that juicy tidbit. 

“Fraldarius? No way! Like that kid Sylvain had a crush on in junior high? Trippy coincidence, huh…” 

“It’s the same person, I think.” Linhardt observes, taking a shot for their team and easily sinking the shot. It’s simply physics, really. 

“You think so?” Caspar rubs his chin, “D’you think Sylvain knows that?” 

“Not a chance.” Dorothea cuts in, adjusting her lipstick in her reflection of the little magnet mirror stuck to the fridge. “But Felix definitely knows who Sylvain is.” 

Out in the backyard, Felix has turned his body to face Sylvain more directly. “What do you want from me?” He asks, straight to the point. 

“I just wanna spend time with you,” Sylvain pleads earnestly. “Felix, aren’t you thinking about this too hard?” 

“You’re not thinking about it hard enough!” Felix retorts, lip twisting in a way Sylvain doesn’t like at all. It looks almost cruel, but for some reason Sylvain doesn’t believe that cruelty is directed at him. He reaches out, offering Felix his hand.

Felix considers his hand. His cigarette burns down slowly but he doesn’t take another drag. He sets it carefully atop the can, bringing himself closer to Sylvain in the process. He slips his hand into Sylvain’s palm, standing between Sylvain’s knees. 

“You’re not thinking about this,” He repeats.

“I don’t have to think about it,” Sylvain shakes his head. “I know what I want.” 

Felix appears to understand that, head tilting so his eyes flash golden in the yellow porchlight. It takes Sylvain’s breath away. He’s leaning in, hoping to steal some from Felix, when his phone chimes. 

“Shit, lemme turn that off,” he grumbles, sliding his phone out. He’s about to swipe to get rid of the message notification, but a snippet of text catches his eye. He opens it to read it in full. 

**_Hilda_ ** _ :where are you! i just heard from lorenz who heard from ferdie whose creepy boyfriend overheard thea saying that felixs last name is  _ fraldarius!  _ as in your long lost love???? hello?!? _

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Sylvain whispers. 

“What is it?” Felix asks. 

Sylvain shows him the message. “I mean, I knew you looked like them but… we knew each other? Did you know?” 

Felix shifts, pulling his hand back from Sylvain’s thigh. “What does it matter if I did?” 

“Felix,” Sylvain is somehow even more astonished, and more than a bit hurt. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

For all of junior high, Sylvain had been inseparable from his best friend and obvious crush. A sullen, aggressive kid who cut their own hair in the bathroom sink and refused to ever wear their school’s proper uniform. Sylvain had been completely enamored with them, and they’d spent the better part of eleven summers together, racing bikes and splashing around in hidden creeks known only to their closest friends.

But that last summer had come to an end, and Sylvain’s friend had moved away. They had written letters for a bit, but one day they stopped coming. And Sylvain stopped writing. 

Felix takes another step back, and in desperation Sylvain reaches out to grab his hand.

“I’m not her.” Felix growls, fingers curling into a fist. “I’m not that girl you had a crush on all those years ago.” 

“A crush?” Sylvain shakes his head. “Felix, I  _ love you!”  _

Felix stares at him.

“You… what?”

“I love you.” Saying it the second time is harder, now that he’s past the frantic frustration that’d ushered it past his lips the first time around. But he says it, because he means it. “I love you, baby.” 

“I told you not to call me that,” Felix whispers, and holds Sylvain’s face in his hands. He pulls him forward and steps closer, and kisses him speechless. 

“FINALLY!” A loud voice whoops from inside the kitchen’s sliding door. The two of them turn to find a large crowd has gathered to watch the show. Hilda has her phone out to snap pics for Twitter, Caspar is cheering at the top of his lungs. Dimitri looks a little confused, but gives them a big thumbs up anyway. 

“You are never gonna live this down,” Sylvain laughs, wrapping an arm around Felix as he tries to hide his face behind Sylvain’s chest. “But y’know… we don’t have to go back in there.” 

Felix is intrigued by that notion. 

“Y’know that arcade is open for another three hours. Can you drive us there?” 

Felix steps back, and holds his hands out for the keys. “That eager to get your ass kicked at whack-a-mole?” 

Sylvain takes his hand, and the two of them take off towards where the cars are parked as the screen door slides open behind them. The night air fills with laughter as their friends tumble out onto the lawn, waving them off as they clamber into Sylvain’s Toyota and rip out of the driveway.

They drive with all the windows rolled down and the radio is a dull tune compared to their laughter.

“One more question.” Sylvain asks, grinning and lovestruck as he gazes across at Felix.

“What?” 

“Does this mean you like me even though I’m not allowed to supervise the rock wall?”

Felix laughs so hard he snorts, the wind whipping his hair around his face.

“Yeah, sure. That’s what it means.” 

“You like me.” 

“Don’t get a big head about it.”

“Too late,” Sylvain beams.

If this were a movie, this is the part where the credits would roll, the shot panning up from two boys in a second-hand car to a sky full of bright, familiar stars.


End file.
